


Of Serpents & Lions

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Captivity, Chastity Device, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Stockholm Syndrome, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: Wesker knows how to care for his pets. It's a shame that they don't always see his side of things.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Albert Wesker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 125





	Of Serpents & Lions

"Good kitten." 

Wesker's nasally voice filled the room, bouncing off concrete walls and ricocheting around like a stray bullet. Leon gurgled softly around the fingers in his mouth, his eyes blank and dead as he stared up at his captor.   
After Harvardville, he'd found himself mopping up copycats, running all over the world at the government's discretion. He'd been ornery and gotten sloppy. On a mission in Egypt, he'd been overpowered by BOWs and knocked unconscious. From there he had been transported to West Africa, into a place that was called the "Kijuju Autonomous Zone" and _gifted_ to Albert Wesker himself.

In the beginning, he had been all snappy remarks and cutting insults, but the living BOW had quickly grown tired of his voice, and had secured a muzzle to his face. It was tight enough that Leon could do little more than grumble in annoyance.   
With his arms bound and a collar around his neck, he was pacified. 

Until they began to strip him.

He'd struggled and cursed, lashing out at anyone who got too close. Wesker had quickly grown irritated, and as punishment, had grabbed onto Leon's left nipple and twisted until he was whimpering through his muzzle. 

"Good pets don't fight back." He'd said.

It had been hard to stomach at first, hard to wrap his head around. Wesker didn't want a sex slave, a broken little toy- no, he wanted a kitten. A sweet, pliant little thing that would follow him around and humiliate itself at his whim. It went against everything in Leon's nature to crawl on his hands and knees after a man that kicked him around and treated him like a possession. 

The alternative was worse. Wesker had taken him down to the lab in his facility, a half-cocked mockery of Umbrella's lab in Raccoon City. There were monsters of all shapes and sizes quarantined inside of tiny, glass cells.

"If you feel like acting up again," Wesker had held Leon against the glass, letting a zombie paw at him. "I have lots of friends that need some stress relief." 

Leon had scoffed at the time. There was no way that BOWs could be programmed to have a sex drive, much less one capable of overpowering their need to feast. While he didn't enjoy the idea of the walking dead finally getting the last laugh, it was better than dying at the hands of an invulnerable egomaniac. 

He'd been wrong. Oh, he'd been so wrong.

He'd actually managed to kick Wesker in the face- shattering those stupid glasses- while they were getting down and dirty one night. Leon had learned to play house in order to get what he wanted, biding his time until he could find a way out. Unfortunately, his plans had been accelerated by Wesker's insistence that he spend a night wearing a vibe. Already three orgasms deep, he didn't have the perseverance for all-night wet dreams. His body was sore and tired, he just wanted to sleep, so he'd attempted to throw a kitten-sized tantrum.

Instead, he'd angered his master, who had grabbed him by his collar and yanked him off of the bed. Leon had fallen in a heap, shocked by the quick movement. His hair was grabbed in a tight grip and used to pull him upwards. Tears pricked in his eyes from the pain, and he was forced to follow Wesker over to the door, where his leash- pink, to match his collar- sat waiting. 

The walk down to the lab was brutal. Leon was only allowed to crawl, and Wesker was going at too quick of a pace for him to keep up. His knees screamed in protest as he stumbled along, his collar digging into his throat whenever he slowed. By the time they reached the holding cells, Leon was in tears again, his knees scraped and bleeding. Usually, Wesker walked slow enough that he could keep up, but apparently that kindness was forsaken when he chose to act out. 

"I'll let you choose." 

Gloved fingers forced Leon's chin up.

"Which one do you want to fuck?" Wesker hissed. He let out a gravely chuckle as his kitten trembled below him. "If you don't pick, I will."

Leon's eyes darted between cells, looking at the zombified men that lounged about in various stages of decay. None were appealing. He still wasn't sure if Wesker could truly make him desirable to literal corpses, but his primal fear had taken over. His mouth was too dry to speak, so he just stared wide-eyed until Wesker grew impatient.

"Fine. I'll pick." 

He tugged on Leon's leash again, dragging him into a small exam room. With disconcerting ease, he lifted his pet onto the bed before tightening down the muzzle and fiddling with the detachable cuffs on his wrists.

Everything was pink. It was just another way to humiliate him.

Wesker stepped away for a moment, returning with a long vial. He cracked it like a glowstick before shoving the end into Leon's ass. He earned a sharp, undignified squeak with his actions, muffled by the muzzle. The entire vial was empty by the time he pulled away, cold fluid dribbling down waxed thighs. Wesker kept Leon soft and pretty at all times, with no body hair to speak of. He'd even had kitty whiskers drawn on his pet's cheeks in henna paste. 

"Get up."

Leon moaned as he was tossed back onto the floor. He was shaking from fear as Wesker led him to one of the cells. After being shoved into the airlock, he was alone with one of the creatures. At first, it staggered towards him as if it intended to eat him, causing him to tense up, but it only pushed him to the floor, just as rough as Wesker. Leon felt panic well up in his chest, and he began to struggle, clawing at the stained cement floor. As his nails chipped and broke, the zombie began sniffing him, particularly around his hole. The implications had his heart rate skyrocketing.

"No-mm!" He managed to whimper through the muzzle, squeezing his eyes shut as something cold and hard pressed up against his ass. The creature's cock caught on his rim before sliding in deep. Leon moaned long and loud, unused to being penetrated so harshly. Wesker liked to take his time, invading every inch of him. This thing just wanted to breed him. It rocked him back and forth, driving itself in as deep as it could. Distantly, he knew his body was responding to the roughness, but he was buried so far into his own head that it barely registered.

_That's it, my sweet._ Wesker's voice was soft and dream-like, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. _On your knees, kitten._ Leon obeyed, the kitty ears on his head flopping gently as he moved. His whole body was stiff and sore, and he mewled pitifully at the discomfort.

"Shh." Wesker scratched Leon's chin, tilting his head up. "Did you learn your lesson, pet?"

He nodded eagerly. _Good pets don't speak._

"That's what I like to hear."

It was a deliberate tease, but Leon was too tired to fall for it. He leaned his head against Wesker's thigh, his cheek sticking to tacky leather pants. With dull eyes, he stared across the room, zoning out completely to deal with the boredom. Wesker was reading reports and writing notes, tedious work, even for a super human. While he scribbled away, Leon sat beneath his desk, head pillowed on hard, muscled thighs. He had been instructed to sit pretty for his master, to be a docile, obedient little thing. 

It was a welcome respite after last night's display of power. His body still ached, bruised and scraped from his run-in with the aroused walking dead. There was a ring of gummy bite marks around his neck from where it had tried to couple with him and infect him with its saliva. Fortunately, the creatures had been "debeaked", as Wesker put it. 

That didn't mean that it couldn't hurt him.

Its cock had been hard as steel, probably a side effect of being dead. Leon had tried to block it out, but every thrust rocked him back and forth across the tile, jarring him and keeping him on his toes. If he let his mind wander far enough, he could still feel the way his body jolted when the creature's hips slammed into him. 

The deep disassociation ended when he let out an involuntary whimper. Wesker's hand twisted through his hair, mocking a gentle touch.

"What's wrong, kitten?" He asked. Leon didn't answer, still staring into nothing. Gloved fingers touched his face, brushing back his hair in order to see him. He didn't react as Wesker examined him, too deep inside his own head and too weak to put up a fight. It took the uncomfortable pressure of being lifted by his underarms to shake him from his thoughts. Still, he didn't move as Wesker set him down, forcing him to straddle leather-clad legs. 

"Sweet, pretty thing." 

Leon closed his eyes as he was kissed, his chin held in a bruising grip. He was used to this by now. Wesker always got handsy when he was anxious about something- usually meddling with the BSAA. He would squeeze and pet, playing with the malleability of his soft little kitten. Sometimes, he'd get too riled up and leave little fingerprint shaped bruises in his wake, staining pale, perfect skin like drops of wine. Wesker loved to bite down on Leon's shoulders, covering his gunshot scar with deep, angry tooth marks. 

He wouldn't admit it- _couldn't_ admit it, lest he feed that bloated ego- but the sex was amazing. He was left well and thoroughly used every time, his thighs sticky and sore. Wesker never failed to force one or four orgasms out of him, going on and on about how he loved the sound of his kitten's mewling. Leon shivered at the thought, pulling himself back into the present. He was being coddled in Wesker's lap, slow hands rubbing at his back and coaxing him to relax. His head was down against his master's shoulder, unbothered by the strain on his neck.

"There you are." Wesker patted Leon's cheek, checking to make sure that he was fully aware of himself. "We might need to take a break, pet, you're beginning to slip away completely, and I can't have that." 

Leon didn't want to think too hard about what that meant, but his weak, addled brain created an image of him dead-eyed and completely broken, still chained to the damn desk. That scared him. He didn't want to be a used up little doll, he wanted to escape, to be rescued.

Why hadn't anyone come for him?

It had been months- he was sure it had been- since he was taken hostage. Why was there no grand rescue attempt, why hadn't Wesker's hideout been raided? Why was he still here? It made him want to scream. He'd given them everything, fought their wars for them, been their subservient little puppet, and now they were leaving him to suffer in the arms of a madman.

And the BSAA, for that matter!

Where the hell were they? Wesker should have been at the top of their most wanted list, put there by Chris Redfield himself. Why weren't they keeping an eye on him? 

"Kitten." 

Wesker was talking again.

"Here, drink." He pressed a glass to Leon's mouth, tipping it upwards until a few drops spilled over the edge. "This will help take your mind off of things."

Leon drank the liquid down greedily, all too aware that Wesker was promising trouble. By now, he'd learned that it was best to just let the mad scientist run his course. He'd been drugged and taken advantage of multiple times already, and he was certain that this drink would help him down that same path. His intuition had always been sharp, so he wasn't surprised when Wesker praised him for drinking it all so obediently.

"Good pet, good kitten." Leather-clad fingers traced the exposed length of his neck, gently nudging his collar. Something was clipped onto it, and Leon expected to be leashed, but the weight felt… off. He turned his head slightly, and to his humiliation, a soft ringing came from beneath his chin. He must have looked puzzled enough to warrant an explanation.

"All good kitties wear a bell on their collars." Wesker explained. "So that the birds in the garden might stand a chance against their claws. Come now, I'll make you some food before the medicine kicks in." 

Obediently, Leon climbed down, settling on his knees beside the desk. Wesker ruffled his hair before striding over to one of the cabinets in his office. He pulled out a bag of cat food, dumping it into a metallic dish and running it under the tap for a few minutes until it was warm and mushy. As he set the dish down on the floor, the embossed lettering glinted, drawing attention to itself. It read "Leon" in cutesy cursive, ending with a paw print and a little clip art fish skeleton. It was painted pastel pink to match all his accessories. 

"Come eat, kitten." Wesker nudged the dish with his foot. Leon crawled over, dunking his face into the salty, sloppy mess. The first time he'd been given such a meal, he'd thrown it across the room in disgust. His punishment had been a belt across the seat of his ass, fifteen hard lashes, and he'd learned very quickly to choose his battles. He could feel the sticky residue smearing across his cheeks, but was too preoccupied with scarfing the food down to do anything about it. A patronizing pat on the ass let him know that Wesker was pleased with him.

As he continued to eat, he felt warmth begin pooling and swelling in his stomach. For a moment, he attributed it to his warm meal, but it quickly became much more insistent than that, racing up his spine and down the length of his cock. Wesker apparently noticed the change, coming over and locking a pretty pink cock cage around him. Leon whined in discomfort, but didn't raise his head from inside the bowl. By the time he had licked it clean, his poor cock was straining violently against its confines as he rutted against open air and panted into the dish.

"Cats begin to go into heat when they're ready to be bred." Wesker said calmly. He lifted Leon's head, the bell jingling merrily, and looked deep into his eyes. Leon fought to maintain eye contact, every instinct begging him to look away and submit. Those clinical yellow eyes could see straight through him, down to the pit where he buried his insecurities. "Have you ever seen a cat in heat?" Wesker asked calmly. Leon shook his head, flinching when crumbs and saliva were wiped away from his cheeks. He went limp as his shoulders were pressed to the floor and his hips propped up, putting his ass on display. It was still sore from all the attention he'd been given last night, and he whimpered pitifully at the implications of his position.

"Calm down, kitten." Wesker rubbed his back soothingly. "We need to work you through your heat. Remember, you're allowed to meow if you need to."

Leon blushed furiously, trying to hide his face in the carpet. His thighs trembled as Wesker pressed two fingers into his ass, scissoring them gently to stretch him out. Whatever aphrodisiac had been in the water was making it difficult to keep his head on straight. Pressure on his prostate made him moan, until a swat on his left flank reminded him to adopt a more feline approach to being vocal. Stomping on the humiliated feeling in his chest, he mewed, scratching gently at the carpet with his "claws". His reward was a third finger, thick and rough on his insides. It only stayed for a minute before Wesker backed away, no doubt slicking up his cock and admiring the view in front of him.

When he didn't immediately return to bury himself deep inside his pet's warm body, Leon let out a annoyed, questioning meow, gently swaying his hips and trying to be enticing. He wanted it now, _craved_ it. A steady snail trail of pre-cum was seeping out of his cock cage and pooling on the carpet. 

"So eager." Wesker teased. He wrapped his hands around Leon's hips, angling them up even further as he pressed the tip of his cock against slick, hungry muscle. Beneath him, his sweet little kitten let out a few desperate meows, legs spreading on their own accord as he was filled with cock. Wesker grunted in approval, rewarding his pet with hard, sharp thrusts that rocked them forwards and left rug burn on Leon's chest and arms.

"Mm- fuh- mroow!" Between the drugs and the thick stretch of the cock inside him, Leon was having trouble focusing. He hated how weak he was while lust-drunk, hated the fuzzy tiredness and deadened muscles. All he could think about was the way his body welcomed the heavy weight on his hips and back. He was _full_ , full of warmth, of cold, tacky semen, of the urge- the _need_ \- to cum. 

"Mew! Mew!" He arched his back as much as he could, begging for attention. Once, he had dared to try and touch himself, and that had been an enormous mistake. Wesker had tied him to an examination table and milked his prostate until he was a crying, overstimulated mess. He'd learned that orgasms were only a treat. Good kittens get orgasms, bad kittens are kept locked up. 

"I suppose you have been good today." Wesker said, slowing his thrusts in order to enjoy the desperate wiggle that Leon gave. "But, you did kick me in the face _and_ break my glasses yesterday, that's something that can't be easily forgiven. I'll meet you in the middle." He pulled away completely, leaving his pet confused and empty. Leon squirmed, moaning quietly. He didn't want to play games, he wanted Wesker to fuck his brains out. 

Gritting his teeth, he meowed, wiggling his hips again to try and lure him back. 

"Patience, kitten." 

He meowed again, louder, and then yelped when he was slapped on the ass.

"Quiet, or you won't cum at all."

That shut him up.

Leon laid still, grinding against air as his cock throbbed inside its cage. It was still drooling out pre-cum, leaving his thighs a sticky mess and adding to the puddle on the floor. Abruptly, Wesker grabbed him by the balls, tugging gently until he backed up.

"Good kitten." He was coaxed into spreading his legs further apart. Deft hands tied an egg-shaped piece of plastic to the shaft of his cock cage. Leon felt his legs tremble in anticipation. He wasn't stupid, he knew what a vibrator was, he'd even used one before his capture, but never over a cage. 

Wesker sunk the length of his cock back into him just as he turned on the toy, and Leon's eyes rolled back into his head. He panted and let out broken gasps as he was fucked into the carpet, brutal thrusts once again dragging him across the floor. His hips went numb within minutes, but the sheer pleasure radiating from his crotch made his toes curl and his calves cramp. 

"Nuh-!" He bit down on his arm to stop from babbling nonsense as the stimulation kept him hard as a rock. He was _so close_ , so on edge, he just needed a push. 

"Slutty little-" Wesker snarled, leaning over Leon in order to sink his teeth into soft, pale skin. He growled like a feral dog, slamming his hips in as deep as he could.

Leon screamed, his stomach clenching as he orgasmed. Cum dribbled out of the cage, soaking into the carpet as his hips jerked and shuddered. Wesker's teeth crunched into his skin, drawing blood and creating deep punctures along his shoulder. The pain only spurred him on, and his desperate struggles helped to milk the cock still lodged inside him.

"Good kitten. Good, good." Wesker hissed, twitching his hips in and out. He was always calm and deadly cool after sex, praising Leon and backhanding him with the same amount of poise. "Shh, shh, relax." He turned off the vibe, setting it aside. "That's quite the mess you've made, kitten." 

Leon whimpered as he was manhandled until his face could be pressed into the puddle of cum staining the gray carpeting. He lapped at it, already used to cleaning up his own messes. As he cleaned, he felt something cold and hard press into his hole. After a moment, it settled, and he felt the soft fabric of his tail flop against his thighs. It was a bushy, pink length of sewn up fabric attached to a metal butt plug. Wesker loved to watch it swish between his thighs as he crawled, often making him do laps around the office in order to show it off.

"How lucky I am." Wesker's voice cut through his thoughts. "That Stratcom's most prized agent, their greatest asset in the war on bio terrorism, is just a whore. Nothing but a cock-hungry slut at my beck and call. It's almost disappointing that it didn't take longer to break you, Leon."

He trembled, but didn't falter as he licked the carpet clean. His cock twitched happily inside its cage.

"Not even a witty response?" Wesker chuckled. He knelt down, pulling Leon's head up by his collar. "Perhaps I should put on a little livestream for the BSAA and show you off to Captain Redfield. So you remember him? Do you remember anything or are all of your brain cells focused on cock?" 

Leon squirmed in place, humiliated but fighting to keep his composure. He certainly didn't want a repeat of last night. 

"I thought so." Wesker took hold of Leon's hair, using it as a leash so that he could drag his pet through the remaining cum and smear it across flushed cheeks. As his pet groveled, he turned his back and settled back in his desk chair, doing up his pants along the way. Leon listened to him flip through papers for a minute or two before daring to reach for his face.

"No." Sharp and demanding, the word made him freeze. "Good kittens lick the cream from their faces. Come here." 

Reluctantly, he obeyed, crawling over to kneel beside Wesker's chair.

"Open your mouth."

Steeling himself, he opened up, his eyes fixed on his master with a healthy amount of suspicion. Leather brushed his face, gloved fingers scooping up some of the mess and feeding it to him. Leon closed his eyes, refusing to look as he lapped up the stain. 

"If I ever let you go, do you think you'd ever be normal again?" Wesker asked, sliding his fingers deeper into Leon's mouth. "You've still got fight in you, I know you do. But how long will that hold out? Will you give up tomorrow when I tie you to a sybian? Will you give up a week from now when I catch you sneaking towards the elevator and decide to let the lickers have their way with you?"

Leon had gone uncomfortably still, his eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at Wesker's stone-cold poker face. Between his legs, his cock strained against its confines.

"When you do give in- you'll notice I said when, not if- will you be a docile little princess, or will you be a rag doll, an overgrown Barbie for me to play with?" He ran his hands through Leon's bangs, meticulously trimmed to be the perfect length. "I suspect it doesn't matter." He leaned in, putting his lips just beside Leon's ear. "I'll hold you down and fuck your throat either way."

The venom in his voice made every muscle in Leon's spine weaken, and he struggled to hold himself upright. 

"Just remember," Wesker's fingers crept down to the tail plug, gently fucking it in and out. "Good kittens get orgasms, and unresponsive kittens get fed to the BOWs." He pulled away quickly, planting his boot in Leon's chest and shoving him onto his back. He bounced off of the floor painfully, grimacing and biting down on his cheek to suppress a curse. Adding insult to injury, his cock was still throbbing, spurred on by the drugs. One round wasn't enough to quell the heat, and that bastard knew it.

Leon curled his hand into a fist before letting out a cautious meow. 

"Quiet, kitten." Wesker didn't even spare him a glance. Engrossed in his work, he refused to "waste his time dealing with naughty, disobedient little brats".

Oh, the amount of times Leon had heard that line. He settled onto his pillow, biting down on the soft cotton and trying not to hump it.

Someday, he was going to get out of here. Then Wesker would see how much of a _brat_ he truly was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter @pointofdespair


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